Goodbye Thrasher
by Scarlett Amberlyn
Summary: :::SPOILER WARNING. TAKES PLACE AFTER DEATHBRINGER::: After the unfortunate events in the Caves, Vaurien Scapegrace, The Zombie King, is left with just a head. Thrasher, his second in command, sets out to find his master a new body...
1. Chapter 1

Goodbye Thrasher

"Ow!" snapped Scapegrace, "Careful with that needle!"

"Sorry, Master," whimpered Thrasher, his large head sinking slowly back into his shoulders "Just a few more stitches…"

"OW!"

"Finished!" Thrasher announced with satisfaction, "What do you think, Master?" he held up a large shard of glass that had once been part of a mirror. Scapegrace snatched it from Thrasher and studied his reflection. The Zombie King _did not_ like what he saw:

"What the hell is this?" He shrieked at Thrasher. Thrasher raised his hands over his face for protection.

"I-it's yo-your new b-body, S-sire." He stammered. Scapegrace looked into the piece of mirror once more. Fat, pudgy hands; thick legs; a bad taste in fashion – neon pink is _never_ the way to go – and hairy arms. But worst of all:

"_This_ is a woman's body, you _imbecile_! A fat, middle aged woman with no fashion sense whatsoever!" Scapegrace shouted. Thrasher licked his ruined lips and lowered his head, his eyes looking at the ground.

"I'm sorry." Thrasher said in a small voice, still staring fixedly at his feet.

"You're _sorry_?" Scapegrace roared, "Where did you find this body anyway?"

"At home, Master." Murmured Thrasher.

"At… home?"

"It's my, uh… my wife, Geraldine: I thought you'd be honoured…"

"Your wife… Geraldine."

"Yes."

"_**YOU MORON!" **_Scapegrace bellowed, "You complete, _utter, __**IDIOT**_!" He continued, thumping Thrasher round the head, with a meaty fist. He dismissed Thrasher and sat down on the operating table in the abandoned lab.

The lab had once belonged to a sorcerer in the late Victorian era. It was said he had been mad –deranged, even – and was driven out after the tragic disappearances of a boy and his pet dog. They were later found in a sick mix-and-match of arms, legs and heads – was there a more perfect place for a Zombie King to dwell? Scapegrace sat back and sighed: Thrasher was an idiot, no mistake. It wouldn't hurt to have a _different_ second-in-command, would it? He smiled, his mouth looking like an open wound.

_Goodbye Thrasher…_

"Just drop me here, worm."

"Yes, Sir."

Scapegrace put an extra car freshener around his neck ('Midnight Jasmine' – his favourite), pulled the neon pink turtle-neck sweater down over his stomach, took a deep breath in and stepped onto the pavement. He squinted as the bright sunlight burned his dead eyes. Shielding them with the hairy back of a fat hand, The Zombie King made his way to a patch of bushes. He watched as the ice cream van turned a corner, a small gaggle of children chasing after it, waving purses and notes.

_Imbecile_.

He squatted down in the bushes, trying his best to hide his neon pink-ness, and waited.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Finally_." Muttered Scapegrace, as two victims – both male – made their way down the street. One was tall, thin and dark haired; the other short and blonde. They were almost polar opposites. Both of the men were in business suits and carrying briefcases. Scapegrace noticed that the taller man was wearing rather unusual shoes: long, patterned with thick heels.

Scapegrace's legs had stiffened up, so it took him two tries to stand. He rose from the bushes, the branches sticking to the ugly pink turtleneck. The men stopped and stared for a moment, then the short blonde one squealed and ran off down the street, dropping his briefcase; papers fluttering all over the place.

The tall man looked at Scapegrace with an expression that was verging on annoyance. He placed his briefcase on the ground and smoothed his suit jacket. Scapegrace stumbled forward.

"Do not be alarmed, _mortal_." Scapegrace said loudly, "For it is _I_, Vaurien Scapegrace, The Killer Supreme and King of the Zombies: I will gui-"

The man's fist slammed into his jaw. Scapegrace fell, flailing his arms, back into the bushes.

"_Jesus _Christ!" Muttered the man, massaging his knuckles for a moment, then stooping to pick up his briefcase, "Its bloody November! Bloody trick-or-treaters."

After a few more painstaking hours, Scapegrace spotted another man approaching. He hesitated, but decided that this one probably wouldn't hit him. Hopefully.

The man was average height and fairly weedy. A scruffy patch of red hair was perched atop his head and a t-shirt with a hand holding a heart-shaped grenade on it hung loosely on his thin frame. His jaw set at an alarming angle, Scapegrace rose once more from his hiding place. The man looked at him with vague interest.

"Oh." He said.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thrasher, meet Clobber." Scapegrace said smugly, "My _new_ second in command." The ginger zombie smiled and waved vacantly. Thrasher looked up at the Zombie King, hurt.

"…Master?" When Scapegrace didn't say anything, Thrasher hung his head. "Why must you hurt me in this way?"

"Well!" Scapegrace announced, blatantly ignoring Thrasher's question, "I'll let you two get…_acquainted_." He tried to gracefully sweep out of the room, but didn't look where he was going and walked into the stone doorframe, causing his remaining ear to fall off. Cursing loudly, Scapegrace stooped to pick up the ear and stomped off. There was an awkward pause.

"So…" Clobber said, looking around, "Uh… hi!" He stuck out his hand, but when Thrasher went to shake it, he whipped his hand away:

"Psyche!" he stuck out his tongue. "_I'm_ going to help Master." He announced nastily, turning his nose up at Thrasher and flouncing off. The last Thrasher saw was Clobber's bright orange hair disappearing into the darkness but he could still hear him in the corridor as he shouted:

"Don't worry, Master – I'm coming to help!" There was silence. Thrasher sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Thrasher knows when he's not wanted…" He noticed an old notebook on the table next to him. He flicked through the pages absent mindedly – then he suddenly had an idea. He found a blank page, ripped it out and went in search of something to write with. He managed to find a dusty bottle of ink and tattered quill. Thrasher pulled up an ancient stool and thought for a moment before scribbling:

"_To Master,_

_Bi ther time yoo reed this, i will probably be on my way. i am soree i cud not serv yoo in the way that yoo wanted but if yoo need me i will be wateing._

_Lots of luv Thrasher _

_P.S Thers a new box of that midnite jasmin car freshner yoo like in the eest wing i hope yoo like them"_

He added a few X's for kisses and a sad face and started to gather his belongings. He wrapped the superglue, needle and thread and two-pound-coin in a rag, then made to leave. He got through the front entrance and turned to say a final misty-eyed farewell to the old lab before hugging his bundle to his chest.

Thrasher started walking.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank you, Clobber." Scapegrace said, admiring his newly sewn on ear in a broken mirror. "You may leave." Clobber nodded and lumbered out of the room. Scapegrace sighed and started to make his way over to his freezer when he noticed a slip of paper on a nearby table. He picked it up and tried to read, but it was impossible. After a minute or so, he realised he was holding the letter upside-down. Turning it the right way up, he began to read. His tongue poked out with concentration and his eyebrows slowly started to move towards his nose as he struggled to make sense of the poorly written letter. Suddenly realising, Scapegrace dropped the letter on the floor and rushed to the front entrance. He threw open the door and stumbled outside.

"Thrasher…?" Nothing moved. "Gerald…?" Silence. Scapegrace shrugged and went back inside.

"Clobber?" he shouted once the door had closed behind him. A distant but alert reply came from deep within the lab:

"Master?"

"Check the East Wing – there should be a box of air fresheners."

"Yes! Master!"

Scapegrace sighed again and made his way back to his quarters.

_So. _He thought: _He's left. Good. Good riddance._

Scapegrace got to his room and softly shut the door behind him. He stared at the paper lying on the floor for a moment.

_He _has_ gone. No more Thrasher._

_Fine._

Scapegrace picked up the letter and ripped it in two, throwing the pieces over his shoulder and climbing into the freezer. The door shut with a squeak and a bang and Scapegrace was left in darkness.

_He's not coming back._

_So?_

_Ever._

_And?_

The thoughts kept niggling in the back of his mind. Nevertheless, The Zombie King turned over and fell asleep.

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><p><strong>Sorry it's so short! :S Thanks SO MUCH for all the hits (76!) and reviews: it's really nice to know what you guys think of my work! :D More soon: hopefully.. :3<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh, oh God... I last updated *when*? *cringe* I'm sorry... but here it is: Goodbye Thrasher, Part 5! Enjoy! n_n**

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><p>Thrasher had spent the last few hours trying to navigate through the overgrown woodland situated near the lab. Countless of times, his rag bundle had caught on a shrubbery and it had taken him ages to try and detangle it again. Finally, he managed to stumble the last few meters and broke through the final line of trees. Had he been alive, Thrasher would have been breathing heavily, but he wasn't, so he just he looked out over the large field he had stumbled upon. Three teenage girls we sat a few metres away, smoking.<p>

"Hello!" Thrasher said in his best 'let's be friends' voice, striding forward to meet them. Three girls turned to stare at him and Thrasher instantly regretted it. His knees started to tremble.

"Um… I was wondering if you could help me…" his confidence fading and turning his voice all high and squeaky. One girl with large blue eyes sneered, still staring at Thrasher.

"Like, _ew._"

"Totally." her blonde-haired friend agreed, blowing out a huge cloud of smoke.

"I'm, like, outta here." Blue Eyes announced as she got up to leave, the other two girls following suit.

"No!" cried Thrasher, reaching out to them, "Don't leave… I don't know what to do…" he felt like crying, but due to his current condition, couldn't. He sniffed feebly.

"Dude," said a girl with many piercings, who had kept quiet until now, "_man up_." The blonde haired girl sniggered.

"Totally." Thrasher hung his head.

"Please don't leave me." He whimpered pitifully. "I just want to go home. But Master doesn't want me anymore. I'm all alone, without a friend. Master was my only friend. He's the Zombie King, you know, he was my idol. I was his first minion, there right from the beginning. And now…. Now he doesn't want me anymore!" Thrasher wailed loudly. All three girls looked at one another and promptly burst out laughing.

"Dude," said Piercings, "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Totally." Blondie agreed.

"Yeah. Zombies, like, don't exist. I think your, like, high or something…" Blue Eyes said matter-of-factly.

"They do in the movies." Blondie pointed out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, but that's, like, the _movies_."

"So?" Blue Eyes sighed.

"Ugh. You are, like, _soo dumb_."

"Totally." Blondie agreed. Thrasher stopped listening after that. These people weren't going to help him; he was going to have to help himself… somehow. Thrasher racked his ruined brains for something. Something big. Something that would show Master he was worth having around. And then the thought struck him, making him flinch slightly. It was big. Huge. And if he could pull it off… Thrasher smiled smugly, pulled himself up to his full height, puffed his chest out and strode toward toward the gang of girls still trying to differentiate the difference between film and real life.

"Out of the way, mortals, for _I_, Thrasher, second-in-command to the Zombie King, have business to attend to." He tried for and evil laugh, but it sounded cheesy and he started coughing violently before he could finish. "Ahem." The girls parted as he made his way across the field while shouting:

"Prepare to face your fate, enemy of the Zombie King!"

"He's nuts." Said Blue Eyes.

"Totally." Agreed Blondie.


	6. Chapter 6

**So. This is it. The last chapter. Hope you guys have enjoyed it! **

**P.S Look out for the sneaky Hunger Games AND Doctor Who references!**

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><p>Thrasher watched as the black 1954 Bentley R-Type Continental pulled smoothly into the drive and giggled quietly to himself. Master would be so proud. He'd remembered Pleasant's address from when Master had tried to sell it to the highest bidder and made his way there all by himself. He'd even found himself a weapon. The Skeleton Detective got out dressed in casual shirtsleeves, braces and trousers announcing:<p>

"What? Bow ties are cool." Cain got out next, one eyebrow raised.

"You look like geography teacher."

Weighing the large stick in his hand, Thrasher watched them enter the house and waited until the door swung shut behind them. Careful not to make any noise, he rose from his hiding place and crept over to the door. Thrasher moistened his lips and stretched his free hand out towards the handle. The door opened silently and Thrasher could hear snippets of conversation.

"Valkyrie, you check over there, I'll see what I can find in here."

"… What're we looking for again?"

He tiptoed down the corridor. There was a loud creak from underfoot. Thrasher froze.

"Hey, Skulduggery, is this what you're looking for?"

"No… that's the _DVD _remote…"

Thrasher let out a mental sigh of relief. They hadn't noticed. He continued to the door frame, raised the stick above his head and jumped into the room.

"HAH!" He shouted, "Prepare to meet your doom, enemies of-" Thrasher looked around, the room was empty. "The Zombie… King…?" Thrasher felt a bony hand bear down heavily on his shoulder.

"Do carry on," Pleasant said, "I wouldn't want to interrupt." His partner, Cain, rose up from behind the television set, waving a black remote.

"Ah, you found it!" Beamed Pleasant.

"But-but… How?" Whimpered Thrasher, looking crestfallen.

"It was easy, really," Explained Pleasant, patting Thrasher's shoulder, "I-"

"-We." Cain chipped in,

"Saw you trying to hide in the bushes, and I-"

"-We."

"Heard you coming down the corridor."

"Oh." Sniffed Thrasher. Cain folded her arms, looking annoyed.

"_Skulduggery_, how come he gets a big stick, but I don't?" She whined.

"What?"

"You said you'd buy me a big stick for Christmas." She pouted. Pleasant paused momentarily before snatching the stick from Thrasher and tossing it over to Cain, who caught it in one hand.

"Early Christmas present." He said simply.

"Thanks…" Cain set down the remote and took a few practise swings with the stick. Skulduggery tilted his head at a satisfied angle.

"I think we ought to pay dear Vaurien a visit." He mused aloud, turning his head to look at Thrasher. Cain grinned.

Thrasher gulped.

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><p>"Another foot massage, Master?"<p>

Scapegrace waved his hand dismissively. "No thank you, Clobber. I have important matters to attend to…"

"Oh, okay." With a vague but happy smile on his face, Clobber left the room, leaving a trail of orange hairs in his wake. Scapegrace sighed. Ever since Clobber had started malting it was like having some grotesque cat around the place. Thrasher hadn't malted like this, but he hadn't offered foot massages either…Scapegrace seated himself at an old work bench and opened a new box of car fresheners. He buried his face in it, even though his sense of smell had long since deteriorated.

Although he tried not to, Scapegrace found himself thinking about Thrasher constantly. Where was he? Was he okay? What if-

_Oh, no, Vaurien. Not going there. Nope. _

He buried his face deeper into the box of air fresheners, squeezing his eyes shut. He could be anywhere. With anyone. He could be-

_Nuh-uh._

Scapegrace felt a hand tap his shoulder. "Uh, Master?"

Scapegrace sat up and slammed his fists down on the bench.

"What is -"

"That is mahogany!" cried Clobber, looking horrified. Scapegrace exhaled loudly through his nose.

"What is it, Clobber?" he asked, looking irritated. Clobber flinched.

"There's, uh, some people at the door." Scapegrace frowned. He never had visitors. Ever. Slowly, he made his way to the front door and eased it open gingerly. Skulduggery Pleasant and his partner, Valkyrie Cain, stood at the door. Cain was beaming and Scapegrace decided that if Pleasant had a face, he would be beaming too. Between them stood Thrasher, shivering.

"Thrasher?" Scapegrace squeaked, "What- I- Why-?"

"Thrasher took a little, uh, detour." Said Cain, smiling widely.

"Yes," said Pleasant, "He managed to get lost, you see, and we thought –" he coughed, "We thought that we better, um, bring him… home." Cain pushed Thrasher through the door and they both turned quickly and started walking back to the Bentley.

"D'you think he knows about the air freshener stuck to his forehead?" whispered Cain loudly, stifling giggles. Pleasant straightened his bow tie, but didn't say anything. Scowling, Scapegrace tore the air freshener from his forehead and watched as the car disappeared down the road before turning his attention back to Thrasher. Thrasher put a hand behind his head and looked embarrassed.

"I thought… that if I… got rid of the… the bad people… the ones who don't like you… then you'd like me… again." Scapegrace looked stunned.

"I'm sorry." He said, "I shouldn't have said those things…" there was a silence. "Come on." Said Scapegrace finally. "I'll draw a picture for you to colour in."

"Yay!" beamed Thrasher. Scapegrace slammed the door behind him and, with Thrasher at his heels, went off to find some paper.

_**FIN**_


End file.
